


What are friends for

by Hagar



Category: Leverage
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Community: purimgifts, Eliot Spencer's Cooking, Gen, POV Female Character, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1303576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hagar/pseuds/Hagar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her ex-husband's associates are occasionally useful. For example, when Maggie has a really bad feeling about her latest client.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What are friends for

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tieleen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tieleen/gifts).



Portland being, well, Portland, Maggie’s hair is damp by the time she makes it from her car to the Brew Pub's door. Inside is cozy, but better lit than Maggie expected. It’s a nice place; she can’t really imagine Nate having ever _lived_ here. The contemporary art on the walls is a little bit more postmodernist than Nate would’ve been able to look at without a grimace and a grab for his scotch.

Eliot Spencer is visible behind the bar, in the kitchen. He gives no indication of noticing her - not that Maggie expected any, she’s learned her lesson about Eliot - but Maggie doesn’t make three steps from the door before she’s intercepted by the hostess, and Maggie knows these people well enough that she doesn’t think it’s just because the Brew Pub is, actually, pretty full.

Maggie lets herself be set. She doesn’t deliberately glance in the direction of the kitchen again, but she doesn’t let her gaze skitter from it either. She chooses whatever home brew is pale and unfiltered, and tells the accomplice - whose name, she claims, is Amy - to let the chef choose whatever complements it best.

Eliot rewards her trust by feeding her the best meal she’s had since Milan or maybe since Paris. She must’ve chosen one of Hardison’s favorite brews, because she gets a larger serving than she ordered. The garish decorations on the crème brûlée, though - that’s Parker, letting Maggie know, yet again, that they know she’s here.

Before dessert, though, there’s an endless parade of small dishes that indeed go terrifically with the beer, and which keep Maggie at her table long enough to refuse a second beer. By the time Amy brings her the crème brûlée and a dessert cocktail in a tulip glass, Maggie is one of three patrons left.

The cocktail turns out to be a shot of butterscotch topped with a shot of espresso. The espresso really is the best since Milan.

“Got your pepper spray?” Eliot asks Amy as she puts her coat on and prepares to go into the night.

“And my fists,” Amy replies cheerfully and adds at Hardison’s glance: “And my GPS trackers. All three of them.”

“Don’t get kidnapped. See you tomorrow.”

“See you! Bye, friend!”

The last is aimed at Maggie, and she echoes it back. She waits until Amy is gone to ask: “Does she get kidnapped a lot?”

“Almost kidnapped,” Hardisson corrects.

“It was just the one time,” Parker says, finally coming out from the back.

“Parker rescued her,” Hardison explains as he draws the curtains shut across the room.

“With a broken knee,” Eliot adds, distinctly proud. He’s still in the kitchen, which Maggie takes as a cue to join Parker at the bar.

“Did you have to remind me?” Hardison protests.

“My knee was not -”

“Shut up, Parker,” the two men say in unison.

Parker takes that as her cue to focus on Maggie.

Liking Parker, Maggie observes - not for the first time - does not make the woman any less disturbing.

“How’d you know where to find us?” Parker asks.

“Nate told me. If I ever needed…” Maggie gestures with her hand.

Parker glances back at Hardison, a little helplessly.

“If she ever needed our help, girl,” Hardison explains.

“Right. Of course.” Parker turns back to Maggie. “What do you need our help with?”

“So there’s this guy who wanted his art collection appraised,” Maggie begin. “Solomon Ingram.” Something passes between the three thieves. “I don’t need to tell you he’s bad news, do I.”

“You in trouble?” Eliot asks.

“No,” Maggie replies. She puts a little extra cheer into her voice. “Not unless he finds out that,” she opens her purse, “that I took photos of his mansion” - SD card - “made copies of all the keys” - impression boxes - “and also of the architectural blueprints he turned in. For insurance purposes.”

“Now, why would he ever find out,” Hardison says dryly.

“Maybe because we’re going to -” Parker begins.

Eliot cuts her off. “He won’t know. Thanks for making the job easier.”

“You’re welcome,” Maggie tells him. “Also, the last time I had coffee that good, I was in Italy.”

Eliot smiles like the compliment was a lot more personal than it was. “Let me make you another one.”

 

 

 


End file.
